


The least we can do is wave to each other...

by Liebermintz



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asriel might be a musician, Chara gets so much crap it's stifling creativity, College, Deconstruction, Disturbed Chara, Gen, LGBT Asriel, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Misunderstood Chara, Multi, New York University, Nice Chara, Nonbinary Character, Post-Pacifist Route, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prog-rock Asriel, Teenage AU, Teenage Asriel, Teenage Monster Kid, There's more to this, Third-person, Trans and/or Nonbinary Frisk, demon kids are original, misleading opening, trans chara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liebermintz/pseuds/Liebermintz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asriel, somehow with a soul (or a metric ton of determination), goes to college with his significant other Frisk and tries to navigate through Hell. He gets a roommate which may or may not be a certain hellspawn that breaks your game and corrupts your save.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and when the water falls again, all is dead and nobody lives.

**Author's Note:**

> "I wrote this for the hallucinations."  
> \- Jerry Garcia, 1968

8 years since Reunification.

Asriel still didn't know how it came to be.

He should've stayed a flower. He should've stayed without a bone to sympathize with. He should've stayed miserable. Such perfect punishment for somebody who knowingly tried to fuck around with the space-time continuum. Inside Mt. Ebott, slowly rotting away, fueled merely by determination, hopes, dreams, and bitterness. Instead, it was 2112 and he was finally moving into his dorm room at NYU. He chose it only because he couldn't get into Juilliard. Besides, Toriel wouldn't pay that much to let him spend the rest of his life waiting tables and playing in prog-rock cover bands. Not that he'd blend in with his purple dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, a purple T-shirt with a Van de Graff generator emitting electricity on it, jeans, and a pair of Chucks - he was more at home with the late Stephen Malkmus than the late Robert Fripp.

Despite what that Rush album predicted, no Syrinx-worshiping priests had taken over the solar system. Not much interstellar travel had been achieved save for Kepler-discovered planets. They jumped over the FTL hurdle with safe wormhole generators and black hole exploitation, but that only got people so far. Experimental colonies on Mars, Luna-Earth tourism, orbit-cycle casinos. Down on Earth, the cars all ran electric, but they all stayed the same. Tastes from 2012 had stayed the same for the most part. His friends were the same. VHS tapes could still play. Mew Mew Kissy Cutie hadn't had a sequel in 80 years. Was this for the real? Is this the life?

Couldn't take boxes on the R line. Had to drive all the way up the East Coast. Couldn't get Frisk to be his roommate - Frisk had found something with that monster kid with no arms. Monty - was that his name? Nobody really knew. Frisk didn't say much anyway - a person of few words. Powerful actions. Found the means to get a sufficient SOUL substitute. No, it wasn't MTT-Brand Human SOUL-Substitute - it couldn't get the Amalgamates split apart. Probably one of the six souls. He couldn't figure it out. One minute, he was ready to root back into the ground. The next, he woke up in the lab, somehow still able to love. Maybe it was Chara. If so, why didn't he dunk the Skelebros on first glance? Nah, couldn't be. Chara was too jaded by their former family to trust anybody save for "Goatbro."

His side of the room was either all packed up in boxes or somewhat put in its proper place. He had his laptop on - got some Spotify playing on his speakers. They finally mastered the Van der Graaf Generator albums correctly. And it only took the Loudness Wars escalating into a live conflict. Goatbro had a box unpacked - mostly clothes. All his T-shirts either with his family crest, a gaudy mix of yellow and green, or prog merch. His proudest was his Pink Floyd prism touring shirt. Frisk turned him onto them on one of their dates. He was first drawn to the rainbow, then to Syd. Then to Roger. All of them as horrible as he was. Trying to force space-time to go back to 2012.

On top of the shirts sat a scrapbook. "Our Memories." Asriel kicked off his shoes, sat with his back against the wall, and picked up the scrapbook. Faded hundred-year-old Polaroids - Asriel and Chara as happy as they could be. At first glance. He could sense there was something more. Another page. And another. The memories seem to just melt away. It all stopped for a bit. Maybe a recipe for Toriel's famous snail pie here and there. Couldn't make a happy memory scrapbook with your bleeding corpse ashing away.

And then a photo of a buttercup. Asriel dropped the scrapbook - felt sick. His heart beat. A trigger.  _Oh my god oh my gosh I'm not dead I'm not dead thank you mommy thank you daddy oh no oh god no where's my arms where's my legs oh god oh god what the hell's happening to me please let this be a sick nightmare i don't want to go to hell MOMMY DADDY HELP ME HELP ME THIS HURTS THIS HURTS SO BAD WHERE ARE MY ARMS WHERE ARE MY LEGS I CAN'T MOVE PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE SOMEBODY okay azzy think of happy thoughts think of them what did you feel i remember mother hugging me i remember dad playing catch i remember the happy times but i can't feel have they been so long ago what's going on where am i why can't i feel love why can't i feel happy where is my happiness i want out i want out I WANT OUT I WANT OUT I WANNA DIE PLEASE GOD JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY FUCKING KILL ME JUST KILL ME JUST_

Thank God for the lax smoking rules at NYU. That pacing around made Asriel take out his vaporizer, his atomizer conveniently filled with Courtroom E-liquid, and take a puff. Calmed his nerves down - before the thing happened again.  _THERE'S GOTTA BE A WAY OUT JUMP OUT DAMMIT JUMP CAN I STRETCH CAN I MOVE CAN I UNROOT I WANT TO STARVE JUST PLEASE LET ME STARVE I CAN FINALLY STARVE I can finally starve i can finally be at peace_

**Lil Ugly Mane's Courtroom isn't doing it for me at all I need help I can't stop flashing back quick there might be a way Frisk I can call them they're on speed-dial i need to check up on them for mommy i could call her i could cry maybe it's the nerves getting to me i screwed myself over watching Inside Out goddamn it fuck me i know somebody cares why not Alphys oh god maybe she's in the middle of fucking Undyne doing sick hentai shit so best not to call her that monster kid can't call he has no arms and I can see him walking down the hall just smile make it look like you're doing fine Azzy you're doing okay BUT I'M NOT OKAY DAMMIT I DON'T WANT TO RESET THE TIMELINE PLEASE DON'T I DON'T WANT TO** **I DON'T WANT TO BE FLOWEY MOMMY DADDY MOMMY DADDY**  mommy daddy mommy daddy

* * *

 

A knock on the door. Asriel cried, curled up, trying to feel like he was in one of those heartwarming family hugs. KNOCK KNOCK.

"Don't come in," Asriel sobbed, "I'm okay, I promise."

"Only people who need help say that shit," the voice, neither male nor female, responded confidently - Asriel's ears perked up.

"Frisk, don't you have something better to do?" Asriel defensively asked, in between gargling sobs and his voice getting more and more lispy.

The door opened regardless.  **Fuck their determination, I should've stolen it eight years ago**. Frisk stood in the door frame, their hair still as long as ever and still as non-binary as you could possibly get. They kneeled down to the floor, reached out their hand, and lightly tapped Asriel's nose with a soft "boop." Asriel's flashbacks all faded away -  _hey Frisk whatcha doin' oops you booped me that was fun i guess i wanna boop you boop your nose i'm gonna boop your nose oh you booped me again heh that was fun i love you i really do you're fun and you care_

Goatbro straightened himself up and gave Frisk a big hug. He let out a soft cry with an honest smile.

"You're pretty good," Asriel said, his tears slowly drying up.

"How about I keep the scrapbook," Frisk offered, "Just for tonight?"

Asriel nodded through the hug. He let go, picked his vaporizer up, and took a drag. Frisk coughed, but they didn't mind. Their boyfriend went through a lot. They helped the boss monster-to-be up, walked them back to the dorm, and opened another box. Anime DVDs and prog vinyl. Maybe a drawing here and there. There was still some unpacking left to finish.

 


	2. we began to notice that we could be free, and we moved together to the West...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel, Frisk, and Monster Kid go for a walk. Some things happen. A bad time is had by all.
> 
> Trigger warning: transphobia (especially from LGB people).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Transphobia is gay."  
> \- Seth Putnam, 2011

"Wave your flag. Salivate.  
Stirring feelings of pride and hate.  
A piece of cloth can't hold your faith."  
\- Reese Roper, 1997

* * *

 

They took the N down to Times Square after the break, they being Frisk, Asriel, and the monster kid with no arms. Frisk had to stay by the kid at all times - the world was rather cruel to those who can't hold an umbrella. This extended for the most part to residents of the Underground - at one point, Asriel was asked to lead the National Monster Advancement Association because of the intense discrimination towards monsters at the point. He declined - he wanted to step away from governmental duties for a bit. He didn't feel like he was fit to rule anybody. Still had the feelings of bitterness from his 92 years stuck.

The N. A rather spacious train at this time of day. They could've stopped at 34th, 49th, or any stop they wished to take. Rather, they needed to take their minds off the scrapbook. Why not walk around Times Square: the only place in the world where nobody gave a shit about who you are? You could walk by Bill O'Reilly, have a chat with him, and not even know it was the man who claimed that tides were divine intervention. Then again, it was 2112 - nobody that Asriel somewhat knew from the Aughties had lived, save for a few pop artists who invested in cryobionics. He was pretty out of it when it came to modern culture. He listened to music that was nearly a century and a half old, that's how out of touch he was.

They couldn't do much in Times Square - a lot of the stores were out of their price range and the restaurants were similarly overpriced. Sure, there were a few chain restaurants they recognized from near Mt. Ebott, but what could they get? A plate of jalapeño poppers and three waters? Yeah, sure, whatever. They could always settle for one of the food carts near the theater district - or something over at Junior's right by the Minskoff, still playing the Lion King after all this time. Asriel wasn't particularly hungry - he didn't care. He had some snail pie his mom packed for him before the long trip up, but that's about it. He could vape and be free. Thankfully, he wasn't in the mood to have Flowey flashbacks. Still on the edge.

They found a nice cafe outside the recently-remodeled St. James, playing yet another  _West Side Story_  revival (this time, with the Sharks as monsters), and decided to stop there. Not a lot of traffic at the cafe. The play was about to start. The attendees were better off paying $50 for concessions. Not that the friends didn't mind the lack of crowd. A nice seat on the patio. Perfectly chill afternoon. "Nights in White Satin" on the restaurant radio. Friendly staff. Altogether not a bad deal.

Asriel took another drag from his vaporizer. Frisk looked at him with worried eyes.

"You're still upset, Azzy?" asked the goat's significant other.

"It's complicated," Asriel said in between puffs of Courtroom vapor, "You haven't been through what I've been through."

"Yeah, I haven't, but I can try to understand. Not fully, but still."

"Could you? I mean, you've almost died a million times, but you haven't really...well, um, you know."

Asriel took another drag as Frisk wrapped their arm around the goatmonster. They looked into Asriel's eyes, smiled, and said, "You know what? Fuck it. I'll try anyway."

A kiss on the muzzle. Asriel blushed. The monster with no arms didn't flinch a bit. He always knew the two were, at least, LGBT since Asriel was rescued. Toriel was surprisingly very tolerant of the whole deal. She knew that, with Frisk living with the Dreemurrs for quite some time, both the siblings were very interested in one another - not in the mere sense of rescuer/rescuee, but something non-Platonic. Given that the Dreemurrs (and Frisk) all had increased stature due to widespread media coverage of the Mt. Ebott Event (the academic term for Reunification), Toriel was worried that both the siblings would start yet another Soon-yi spat by accident. But surprisingly, they didn't. The media merely saw Frisk as a human who was on good terms with the First Family of Monsterdom. It also helped that they didn't molest sisters and daughters in attics.

This innocent kiss turned into a brief moment of passion. Now, Asriel wasn't dumb enough to fuck Frisk right then and there at the cafe - he was still a prince-to-be, even if he was shirking his duties - but that didn't mean he could slip in a French kiss here and there. The problem wasn't that they were gay or anything - Frisk was born male, but didn't really feel male most of the time - but that they were in a human/monster relationship. Eight years since reunification and the world governments still had the gall to instate miscegenation laws (that read more like codes against bestiality) against human/monster non-Platonic relations. They softened up after some convincing from libertarians and the NMAA - especially when Asriel was going to be the first openly gay president of the organization (they got the second best, Undyne - who was still convinced on some level that anime could be real) - but even as the laws became rather ineffectual, people still had this belief that humans and monsters in a remotely romantic relationship were going to destroy the moral fabric of America. 

That was fucked up. Even more fucked up is these types of people coming out of a musical that, at best, promotes total equality and cooperation between groups of people from different racial, socioeconomic, and (thanks to the casting) Kantian-animalian backgrounds. 

An unassuming middle-aged couple walked past the cafe, right as Frisk and Asriel's kiss briefly became passionate, and audibly scoffed. "Heh!"

Any chance of arousal had died with that scoff. Asriel turned from Frisk and looked at the couple.

"What in the hell was that for?" Goatbro asked.

"Isn't it sick what you're doing?" one of the men asked.

"I don't believe so," responded Asriel, "We've been a couple since at least a couple of years since Reunification."

"Don't you think your monsterhood will destroy that poor kid?" the other man asked.

Asriel shook his head.  **You assholes don't know how many times we did the thing I mean there was this one time we did it at a MTT-Brand Burger Emporium in the bathroom and the cashier with the stupid-ass faces came in screaming about how Mettaton was going to be the death of him I really didn't care about what he was saying he probably opened the stall door and slammed his head in the mirror because**

"Wasn't there a study on the carcinogenic properties of human/monster sex?"

Asriel stood up, disgusted, and mumbled to himself, "I'm out, I'm fucking out."

The couple jeered, somewhat happy that they "destroyed an unhappy relationship," until they really took a long look at Frisk. Then something clicked.

"Hey, goatperv!" one of the men screamed, "I didn't know you were fucking a tran-"

Asriel turned around and screamed. His eyes focused on that hateful couple. A rainbow stream soon hit the couple and knocked them to the ground. Frisk placed their head in their hands and sighed.

Asriel looked at the couple, more angry than agonized, and kneeled down to them. With tears in his eyes, he growled, "Don't call Frisk  **THAT**. If you dare do that again, I will give you a, um, rather unpleasant temporal experience."

The goatmonster stood up and noticed their lanyards - VIP passes to the  _West Side Story_  production. Angrier.

"You guys should know better! I mean, with Stonewall and Harvey Milk and that  **GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING PLAY YOU WENT TO! DO YOU HAVE ANY BASIC DECENCY?!** " Asriel cried. Then a wicked smile. "And you still pick on people like Frisk because 'ha ha, he-she from  _The Crying Game_  blah blah blah chick with a dick! they're gross and not at all of this world! or from this universe!' Why do you think they're hellspawn? Come on! You've had close to a hundred years to fix this shit and all you guys can think of is 'the savior of humanity and monsterdom is gross because they aren't a boy nor a girl'?"

The couple stood steadfast. They didn't listen to a single word Asriel said - that'd be too perfect of a resolution - but merely stood up and walked off, screaming "Goatperv" into the night.

Asriel sat back down at the table and resumed his vaping-related pastime: vaping while under stress. His eyes widened. He hadn't been that wicked in eight years. Ever since those days. Was it all going to blow up in his face like the first five times?

Frisk looked at their boyfriend, grabbed their hand, and said, "That was a cool thing, standing up for me."

"Nobody fucks with my friends.  **NOBODY** ," Asriel responded.


	3. the distance between us is not very far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel finally meets his new somewhat suspicious roommate. They don't really get along.
> 
> Note: MTT does not sell Sampsans ape spray. Stop asking them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Undertale was a mistake."  
> \- Toby Fox, 2015

Back to the cold, cold dorm. A bit calmer – Frisk had spent about half the subway ride back trying to calm down Asriel – but still on edge. This wasn’t going to be much of a calm night. Besides, Asriel’s roommate wasn’t expected to move in until the next day. They had all the time in the world to do whatever. They could even sleep in the same room, but Asriel noticed that the resident assistants would frequently check in on their rooms even as he was unpacking and panicking. Netflix and chill was definitely out of the question.

 

There was a common media room, among several added in the 2050 construction of the building, that had everything a media room was expected to have. TV, Blu-Ray player, radio, and a wall-mounted control panel that was always out of order. A few couches from one of the many thrift shops across the Hudson. Nobody was using the one on Asriel’s floor – they might as well sit down and watch something they owned. An action movie, perhaps? A meditative Western on the negative effects of manifest destiny and white supremacy? A lusciously-animated film watering down a German morality tale? _Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2_?

 

That plan was ground to a halt when Asriel went back into his room and noticed that the other half of the dorm had been set up. And somebody reclining on the goatboy’s bed, flipping through the scrapbook. A look of nostalgia on his face. Rather subtle. Asriel didn’t notice much of it at first.

 

A predominantly green and orange sweater on the roommate. Looks like he put on a little too much blush – like a cherub. Brown corduroy pants. This took Asriel back. _Hey Chara smile for the camera will you just smile for the camera stop hiding your face in between the flowers I know you were born with a condition that makes you smile all the time just stop hiding your face you’re not ashamed of it well uh well uh god holy hell uh this doesn’t exactly look good I mean this isn’t healthy for you I know about the condition Christ what was its name I think it’s like Chelsea syndrome do you know how to smile Chara stop screaming I’m just trying to figure this out look don’t get mad at me I’m not the moron_

So his name is Roy Jones that sounds a bit generic I mean I thought names in the future would all be crazy like you know McFly Johansson or Tupac Richardson or something of that sort that young generation’s going to name their kids increasingly weird names and those kids will name their kids weird names and the cycle goes on and on until we’re named Ogden’s Nut-Gone Flake and that’s the only name we have the teacher goes hey little goat buddy what’s your name and I have to answer Ogden’s Nut-Gone Flake and nobody bats an eye because it turns out that there are several kids named Ogden’s Nut-Gone Flake in the country school system and it’s such a common name that when we hear that it’s an album by the Small Faces we’re like holy fucking shit we’re named after an album how high were our parents and it turns out our parents did tons of MDMA while ranting about academically-appropriated Freudian terminology about fathers and penises and turning that into the patriarchy because hey if we’re going to be on the nose let’s be on the nose I didn’t choose to waste eight years of my life as that Flowey son of a bitch I swear to God if I meet Chara again if I get to I will punch his fucking teeth out and kick him all the way across to Rahway it’s his stupid plan to poison himself that got me dead and Floweyed and soulless in the first place

 

“Shut the fuck up, crybaby,” Roy uttered as he put down his copy of _Les Miserables_ in the original French, “Trying to read here.”

 

Asriel didn’t realize that he got into yet another crying fit – thinking about Flowey again – and quickly dried his eyes. He looked up at his roommate, took out his vaporizer, and dragged on it.

 

“Did I distract you that much?” Asriel attempted to snarkily respond in between his shaky speech and Courtroom drags, “I bet you didn’t hear a damn thing I said.”

 

“You kept mentioning something about a flower and this dude named Care-uh. That and Ogden’s Cashew Cereal,” Roy muttered, “Now, if you excuse me, I’m trying to finish up the Marius part.”

 

Another drag. Asriel responded, “By the way, they all die. Before you ask, I read it for a school report.”

 

Roy chucked the book onto his bed and laughed. “Yeah, it figures. They always end like that. By the way, I swear I know you from somewhere.”

 

“I have that same feeling too.”

 

“Your boyfriend wanting to go to the Knife Emporium down near Mt. Ebott?”

 

A very deep drag. And another. Asriel needed to refill his atomizer with more Courtroom syrup. “How’d you know I was from Mt. Ebott?”

 

Looked like Roy was trying to cover up something. Asriel wasn’t exactly aware of it. “You’re a monster, right? You came from there. You know that tourism blew up after Reunification. You know the knife emporium off of the Freeway Parkway. I’ve been there. I saw a young goat and his boyfriend.”

 

“For your information,” Asriel responded in between finishing up the current batch of Courtroom, “Frisk is my ‘friend with benefits.’ I don’t know how to refer to them. There’s no proper way to say ‘I’m in a non-Platonic relationship with Frisk’ in shorthand.”

 

“Well, I still say ‘boyfriend’ because I feel like it.”  
  
“You’re a dick.”

 

“Get used to it, goatbro. You’re in New York City.”

 

* * *

 

“To think I have to spend my time with him,” Asriel grumbled, the soft glow of the TV illuminating his face. An interesting program: _Cooking with a Robot_. Another line in the series of MTT-produced programming. At this point, the damned robot’s stature had risen to the point where he had one of the Big Six TV stations. To think that he absorbed FOX, once the king of TV.

 

“Yeah, that Roy guy sounds a bit out there,” Frisk responded.

 

“I just don’t know how he knew I lived near the mountain. That’s been bugging me.”

 

“I got an answer: you’re Prince Asriel. You’re tabloid fodder. Whenever you wear a band’s T-shirt, their sales go multi-diamond. You’re the idol everyone adores!”

 

Asriel took a look at the TV. A chuckle – **yeah I guess you’re right holy hell you made a Mettaton reference you idiot bastard son**

 

The goatmonster took a drag from his vaporizer, freshly refilled, and spoke in between vapes, “At least you didn’t blow my limbs off when I was the God of Hyperdeath.”

 

“You kept dodging my attacks, hon.” Frisk took a piece of salt-water taffy and placed it in their mouth.

 

“You gotta admit that I looked pretty cool. I had, like, Gene Simmons make-up and I was shooting rainbows and-“ Asriel seemed to be reminded of something – **don’t ever call Frisk THAT or you will have an unpleasant experience**

 

Asriel turned his head towards Frisk and asked them, “Hey, uh, Clint, you think I overreacted back there?”

 

Frisk nodded their head. “Obviously. You didn’t have to make that couple enter a world of Chaos Buster-induced pain.” A light punch to the arm – about as hard as somebody’d hit their friend if they saw a Volkswagen Beetle. “And please, Azzy, stop calling me Clint. I can’t help it if I squint all the damn time. I’m not reminding you of your unique circumstances. Stop reminding me of mine.”

 

Asriel took five pieces of watermelon-flavored salt water taffy and them into his maw. Another hit of Courtroom. “So it’s that time of the month again. Playing your favorite game: Kick the Goatprince.”

 

Frisk kicked their boyfriend. **Hey what was that for**. “You said, ‘kick the goatprince,’ Azzy. When’s Sonichu 15 coming out, lover boy?”

 

Asriel sighed. **At least it’s not like talking to Roy**

 

And guess who in the living fuck comes into the common media room it’s that asshole of a roommate who thinks he’s the next Chara because he heard about him on the TV during one of those Reunification documentaries but then again he does remind me a bit of him I mean he has the same whack fashion sense yo what’s up dog I’m wiggidy-wiggidy relaxin chillaxing bae how about you well shit Roy’s here might as well

 

“That your genderfriend, Prince?” Roy pointed at Frisk.

 

Asriel nodded his head. “Yeah, is my genderfriend. What of it?”

 

“Oh, nothing much. Feels like I’ve been in their head – I feel like I’ve seen some wicked shit before. Then again, most of that shit’s not wicked – I’d like to say it’s all greater good things.”

 

“If you ever met my stepdad, he’d throw you off the Chrysler Building. He gets very upset about that sort of talk.”  
  
Roy sat down next to the goat and the Frisk who had yet to make up their mind. “What’s Sansa Claus gonna do? Teleport and dunk me?”

 

Asriel shrugged his shoulders. “His teleportation radius only covers 100 miles at most. Frisk, Monty, and I took a 5-day drive all the way here. He has no idea.”

 

And then, a light bulb moment. **Wait how did he know about Sansa Claus that’s what I called stepdaddy for quite some time I mean he went back to science sure antidepressants don’t work on him at all he’s a goddamn skeleton he drinks ketchup he dunks Frisk he dunked me a few times even at NBA Jam**

“Roy,” Asriel began, “How do you know-“  
  
“Tabloids, Prince. You’re everywhere. Same with that fat skeleton. And your real dad.” Roy conveniently took out a copy of Star that he obviously got from one of the newsstands in 42nd Street Station. All of the really big monsters. Mostly the Dreemurrs. The First Family of Monsterdom, they called them. They really liked Asriel. A dreamboat, they called him.

 

Frisk looked at Asriel with assurance. “I told you so, Azzy.”

 

“What’s King Asgore do?” Asriel quizzed Roy.

 

“Monster ambassador. Ziggy Stardust Jr. was too young at the time. Still is, for the most part.” **God Roy’s even more of a dick than I thought**

 

“It’s Frisk, Roy. Get it right or don’t say anything.” Asriel stood his ground.

 

“We have freedom of speech here, I can say anything I want. So, ha!” Roy took Asriel’s vaporizer and took a drag. He coughed and spat on the floor, handing the goatmonster back the vaporizer. “You smoke fucking Courtroom? You know that girl endorsed it as a joke, right?”

 

“It’s cheap and I like the taste.”

 

Frisk had their word in. To Roy: “Prince over here used to smoke tons of pot before he realized that it increased his LV.”

 

“Shoulda read the study on monsters and drugs. You’d wonder why that Burgerpants guy went so nuts after ‘seeing things in the bathroom.’” Roy suggested coyly.

 

Asriel rolled his eyes and took another drag. And another piece of salt water taffy. His focus was back on the TV. **Oh wow Mettaton’s TV shows haven’t been the same since the FCC forced Alphys to get rid of his human-killing protocol they said it violated the Dick Jones Law I knew a Dick Jones once it was on a video tape somebody found in the dump near the entrance to Hotland god he was a dick Chara and I cheered when he got the hell beaten out of him by the coolest cop in the world I mean he survived death and he had a robot suit and he was indestructible except for that Directive 4 thing either way the FCC made Metty sell out but he got them good he owns the biggest TV station in the world and he has a ghost report on the hottest new bands from California releasing mixtapes**

 

Roy took a look at the TV. “Heh, the show was better when it was called Cooking with a Killer Robot. Don’t know why they cleaned it up. It’s a late-night show. Use the safe harbor, for crying out loud!”

 

“I actually know him. I got a job interning at MTT Studios for one of their TV shows.” Asriel tried to break the ice. **Dear God don’t let Roy say something stupid**

 

“Is that why you’re here wasting all your Slippy Syrup?” **Goddamn it Roy**

 

“No. I was about to say that I work on a show that tapes early in the afternoon. I help set-up things and give notes to the host. Some weirdo in a fishing hat and a can of green tea.”

 

“Oh, that show with the lame Swede – _Up All Night with Jonatan Bergman_. I hate his shtick.”

 

“It pays. And I get to interact with the writers. I really want to join his in-house band though. I’ve been really making tons of progress on the keyboards. I can almost play like Keith Emerson.”

 

Roy was confused. “Wait – who’s Keith Emerson?”

 

Asriel didn’t divulge. To him, MTT programming was all that mattered. He had quite a way to go with his new roomie.


	4. Designed to kill all witchcraft and end the Papal fear...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel's psyche starts to crumble. Roy shows a slightly more compassionate side alongside his obvious Chara-ness. The first of many "Asriel freaks out because he thinks he's Floweying out" nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No silly fake quote today. 
> 
> R.I.P. Scott Weiland.

8:15 a.m. Asriel had been up for little over an hour – he didn’t need much sleep – and he had already went to the Coles Rec Center for a quick jog. He had to keep in shape – one day, he was expected to take over governing duties, which, in a worst-case scenario, would lead to the Prince fighting in battle. He learned several martial arts – none of which he was particularly great at – and practiced gymnastics for five years (only gaining the ability to backflip and split just so he can showboat on stage). He was rather lean – not dangerously so, but fifteen pounds underweight for his height (6’ 4’’) and age (20). Running was a great way to keep himself sane.

Asriel walked into the room, fully showered and carrying his gym clothes under one arm. Roy hadn’t even woken up. Asriel looked from side to side – **okay maybe he won’t look** – undid his towel, and put on a pair of boxer shorts. Dragon Ball Z ones. One of the bunk beds creaked.  
  
“God, you’re lame,” Roy stated, now out of bed, “You really like your anime, right? Got that from Frisk?”

Asriel sighed – he wasn’t in the mood for this – and responded as he took out a pair of blue jeans from his closet. Slipped them on. Another prog-rock T-shirt – “Soft Machine” in all capital letters, its font of choice a modern font that wouldn’t look out of place in an Art Deco skyscraper lobby. A beige affair. Another flannel button-up with rolled sleeves. And purple-rimmed glasses. Asriel’s eyesight wasn’t exactly the best – he mostly did with contacts, but most mornings, he kept to a trusty pair of specs.

“Now you look like the guy from the tabloids,” Roy said, “You’re really growing to be like your father. Maybe not as, you know, ‘bara’ as he, but add some blonde hair and bam!”

“Yeah, about that. He’s so busy most of the time – I don’t see him a lot.” Asriel felt downbeat.

Roy looked at the clock – his eyes widened. He went to his closet and hastily picked out an outfit – a similar affair to yesterday’s. Green striped sweater, brown corduroys, brown dress shoes. With Roy’s longish hair – **he’s spitting-image for Chara why don’t I tell him but what if he knows I mean he knows everything maybe they got Gerson to spill something for the tabloids I mean he’s practically the monster Terkel he’s our man in the Underground**

“You know, you remind me of somebody,” Asriel said to Roy, a nervous inflection in his voice.

Roy spoke in a slightly higher pitch, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“You know of a person named Chara?” The goatmonster was tripping over his words at this point.

Roy nodded his head and smiled. His cheeks blushed. Piercing eyes. Asriel knew. Roy knew.

“They say reincarnation is impossible. When you die, you die.” Asriel took out his vaporizer just in case. “I find that to be not exactly the truth.”

“Yeah, well, reincarnation has its limits.” Asriel stopped there before he really thought of it. His own reincarnation. Anything remotely related to the Flowey era. A drag of Courtroom just in case.

“I’ve always felt transient in some way. Past lives, this life, future lives – purely Tralfamadorian relativity.”

“You’ve seen the universe blow up?”  
  
“Not like that, Prince. I just feel that basic connection. I mean, it’s obvious – you know me as an extension of the person you knew years and years back – but at the same time, it’s not. What if I’m just playing you? What if my attitude merely reminds you of him? What if you’re just making all this up in your head? Anything’s possible.”

Asriel took another puff of smoke. Getting very close to Flowey territory. They called him the flower with a face. The flower who wouldn’t shut up. The flower who wouldn’t stop crying, at first. The flower with the liquid skin. The flower who can feel pain.

“I don’t know. You just, you know, have IT. IT reminds me of Chara. I’ve only seen IT in him. Not Frisk. Not me. Not my mom. Him and you.” **Way to go moron I’m now spouting conspiracy theories about my own roommate but Christ he reminds me of something I don’t want to ask it now what if he confirms and blows up New York I mean that’d be bad I’d be dead again there’d be a New York-sized Flowey who wants to**

 

_Kill or be killed that’s it that’s the only thing I can come up with it only makes sense now I had a talk with dad today he was crying he was really crying he was on his knees saying sorry asriel I’m so sorry I’m such a fucking idiot why didn’t I stop you why didn’t I bury chara sooner why am I so stupid stupid stupid stupid my wife hates me she thinks it’s all my stupid fucking idea it’s not I didn’t know you guys didn’t know it’s not my fault and here I am I’m merely thinking why can’t I sympathize with him I understand basic traits I knew what it felt to love I mean it wasn’t that long he kept saying that as if I had been dead for almost a hundred years it felt like taking a nap just took a nap on the floor of the castle maybe they put me in my room but shit I wake up and I’m being fiddled around with a man with gouged hands and an intern yellow lizard who kept to herself she was in charge most of the time she watched over me she was obviously shaken up over something she kept crying saying they all blended in together I couldn’t stop it they’re all just melting they’re losing themselves their vocal chords just became gargles and moans and screams she was crying the man with the hands said that she might’ve forgotten to take the Prozac and she kept saying I keep taking it and taking it and taking it but it just won’t work it won’t work but she does this anyway because she wants to try and I can’t try I can’t feel if I were myself I’d feel I cry and tell her everything’s going to be okay that I could get my mom and dad to help her and I went to sleep again waking up in the garden and everything’s gone I can’t sympathize I can’t feel happy but only a bitter happiness like beating somebody at a game and being a sore winner and dad looks at me he keeps crying his face is all fucked up his tears are water and I just sit there empty I don’t know what to do I mean I know what to do but I can’t genuinely do it I’ve been stripped of that and then he said I’m in a mere temporary vessel for whenever they can fix my soul with determination it’s somewhere in a laboratory outside Hotland in a freezer awaiting for a better shot of the thing so I don’t melt into the ground and become the weird thing and make the intern want to jump off the platform and hope that nobody saves her I’m now a bad actor I try to act normal but it just feels wrong it doesn’t feel natural you know and that’s when it hits me I have no soul everything I’ve done is for naught these people need to know that love is merely artificial I want to protect them I want to show them what it’s like to be me so that nobody can die I want them to protect themselves or die KILL OR BE KILLED KILL OR BE KILLED KILL OR BE KILLED IT’LL ALL FIX EVERYTHING GODDAMN IT IT’LL ALL FIX EVERYTHING AND I’LL BE IN MOMMY’S ARMS AGAIN EATING PIE AND NOT FUCKING REBELS GODDAMN IT I WANT THIS TO WORK I REALLY WANT THIS TO FEEL_

* * *

 

First class of the day: film appreciation. Core class. Stand-in for art appreciation.

 

Orientation day. Get used to the syllabus. Watch a little short – maybe a movie if there’s enough time. Quite a few monsters in the class. Asriel sat next to Roy. The goatmonster was wary – he didn’t know he’d have one class with his roommate, much less several of them. All during Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. At least Roy wouldn’t be able to razz him during film appreciation – just once a week. Three hours of the day. But they sat next to each other. And that annoyed the fuck out of Goatbro.

 

The short was this strange affair – took place in a roadside diner outside Dallas. Two third-wavers came in with a bunch of stickers and slap them all over bumpers, jukeboxes, doors, and so on. They come in and assume the entire town’s going to eat them up – after all, they look like the type of people that don’t get treated nicely in the South. They proceed to harass the waitress with a presumption that she might be not on their side. And then the waitress’ girlfriend comes in, the third-wavers do a double take, and the townsfolk chew out the duo for not being tolerant towards their own kind. Maybe they had time for another film. Maybe not. Asriel didn’t know. He was too busy trying to overanalyze the film – and not look right into Char-I mean, Roy’s eyes. Maybe they’ll be red. Maybe it’ll prove every one of his nightmares.

* * *

 

Second class of the day: astronomy. Free sleep period – the professor didn’t care. Besides, most of the information was online. Asriel already had his study guide printed out. He took a quick nap. Roy sat enthralled – he made a very slight mention at lunch that his major was astronomy. He always liked it since hearing the song “Astronomy” by Blue Oyster Cult. Asriel was perplexed when he heard that – how could that be? Why would a kid listen to something other than “Don’t Fear the Reaper”?

 

Asriel wasn’t too interested in the cosmos. He thought about, with his relatively bottomless bank account thanks to his family’s increased stature (and trading in their 100,000G fortune), taking a vacation with Frisk and Kid over to one of the theme parks on the moon, but there wasn’t much to do. Sure, the Moon became Las Vegas after NASA did all they could do with it, but Asriel was only 20. He had a year to go before he could get into the casinos near Mt. Ebott. Thankfully his birthday was in December, so maybe he could splurge $200 on a game of blackjack. He kinda knew how to card count. So his stupid trip to the Moon was on the backburner.

 

Asriel slept even as the professor messed around with his planetarium set-up. Most of the students didn’t give a shit, most of them snacking on a variety of chisps, coffee, and the occasional Crystal Pepsi. Take a nap here, get back the two hours he lost on another nightmare.

 

His power nap dreams were relatively sane. Always fantasies with Frisk. His mom and dad together again. The good ol’ days – before Flowey opened up a bag of all-dressed popato chisps and sang Arcade Fire as he cried again. And again. And again. A summary of the day’s events. A bit like a short film. And then Roy popped in with a smile that could cut through glass – his entire lower jaw had been poorly stitched together, like something out of a bad torture porn film. He was the new Amalgamate – Chara the Antithetical Christ and Roy the Roommate-Who’s-A-Total-Fucking-Asshole. Going back to his mom – Asriel had mastered lucid dreaming early on during his proper reincarnation. She and her new boyfriend Sans – the laziest skeleton-monster in the multiverse and in all possible timelines – instituted a swear jar policy because of some questionable things Frisk and Asriel had been saying over video games, study sessions, and post-work relaxation. Well, maybe not that late – it started eight years prior, after Reunification. It was a mere safeguard against any of them screwing up and unleashing a torrent of “fucks” around the house. Asriel was known for his sailor’s mouth, but at home, he was always sheepish and tended to mince every oath. That’s how he picked up the phrase “fresh heck.” If Toriel only heard some of the things he was saying to Roy, Kid, and Frisk up here, she’d faint. And Roy popped in again. In the swear jar. Stealing the money. They were going to use that for one of those super-high-definition TVs when they go on sale at the Fry’s. Oh. Fuck. **Okay mom I’ll put the dollar in I’m sorry mom I’m sorry mom I’m so fucking sorry**

 

Roy poked Asriel on the shoulder. “Hey, Prince, class ended.”

 

Asriel woke up and took a quick peek. **Oh. He wasn’t kidding.** “How long was I out?”

  
  
“A couple of hours. Professor even left. He probably thought you were narcoleptic.”

 

“Man, that sucks. At least my next class is at 5:30.” Asriel checked his phone for the time. 2:45.

* * *

 

Third class: music composition. The one thing Asriel wanted to take and he got it. He should’ve been taking politics courses, but a lot of mental blocks stood in his way. A smiling human and a smiling flower. At least Frisk was in it, so it wasn’t too bad. Kid didn’t have class at that time.

Again, orientation. They wouldn’t get into the real nitty-gritty of that it means to compose until weeks later. The goatmonster was just happy to be with musicians. He got that knack from Frisk, who knew some piano. They claimed they got a rare artifact from their piano skills, but that some dog named Toby ran off with it and used it to create the world’s most acclaimed SNES ROM hack. Asriel knew that room from the past. It only housed a dodgeball. Frisk won a dodgeball and the dog absorbed it. Whatever. Asriel needed to learn another instrument. He knew some piano, but not enough. With all the MIDI keyboard controllers connected to overstocked Apple computers, he knew what kind of music they’d be expected to compose. But he’ll change that. Rip the USB cable out of the Apple, plug it into his laptop, install it, and write some ‘Tron licks that Tony Banks would have hot Genesis sex to.

 

Of course Roy’s in the class! He signed up for music composition at the last possible minute. And he’s seated between boyfriend and genderfriend! That made orientation much less smooth. The one class Asriel wanted to desperately take and Roy ruins it by being there. He’s so happy about it. He’s extremely hyped. He gives off a smile that cuts through glass-

 

Asriel heaved, his eyes widen, and he made a bee-line to the restroom across the hall. Closed the stall – his maw in the freshly-cleaned toilet. Roy’s smile. Chara in those home movies. Asriel vomited into the toilet, absolutely sick. His eyes bloodshot. Heart pounding. His face felt a little gloopy – seemed to melt. Like the Amalgamates. His eyes black, his pupils white. Asriel stumbled out of the stall and looked at himself in the mirror. He was on total edge. Whatever remained of the Flowey vessel was manifesting itself in his face. He even laughed – a very bitter laugh. Tried to go back to a relatively decent memory – **the time I walked outside and everybody tried to kill me the time somebody cut me in line the time my mom screamed at my dad over the phone and she’s like no Asgore don’t fucking come to the house again fuck you fuck you fuck you and she puts a $5 in the swear jar and I don’t question it because she’s always been that bitter towards him but not in the good old days it hurts everything fucking hurts**

 

Asriel did the one thing he could do: bang his head on the wall. His horns had gotten pretty tough – his messy hair hadn’t grown golden yet (maybe it wouldn’t, ever) – so he broke the drywall. His forehead bled. Asriel heaved again – nothing came out. Dry-heaving. Over and over until his stomach cramped. One by one, the pleasantries came back to play.

 

Roy walked in the bathroom, absolutely concerned. He noticed the broken dry wall, the blood, and the sound of Asriel gasping and desperately trying to throw up ANYTHING. “Holy hell, what’s gotten into you?”  
  
“Don’t trigger me, Roy. Your smile triggered me, Roy. Why do you insist that I suffer?” Asriel muttered under his breath in an extremely shaky voice that he hadn’t heard outside of his flashbacks.

 

“Get it under control, Prince. You’re just having an episode.”  
  
“Is it just an episode, Chara? God, I’m **SO FUCKED UP!** ”

 

Roy kneeled by Asriel and patted him on the head. Asriel hissed, his face now a mess in between mockery, mimicry, and an overdose of determination. If only he could save-scum life like he could in the past.

 

_**Holy shit I’m back I’m actually back it’s been so long it’s been eight years and I want to erase I want to oh god I want to DESTROY JUST FUCKING DESTROY LIKE A SEARCH AND DESTROY A NAPALM BOMB ALL OVER NEW YORK GET RID OF ROY GET RID OF THAT FRISK GET RID OF THAT MORON IN MY HEAD I mean I have him subdued right now goddamn it fuck he kicked me oh jeez this really hurts howdy where’d things go wrong** _

****

**I want it back Flowey**

**_You’re not getting it shit you got it_ ** _shit shit shit nothing’s going to work I have to sit here forever I don’t know what to do stuck in the garden shit_

 

**Now where was I oh yeah GODDAMN IT ROY YOU KNOW BETTER**

 

Asriel’s face regained its standard shape. Roy was already pale as a ghost. Asriel knew. Asriel fucking knew. And Roy knew.

* * *

 

Asriel had a troubled sleep that night. Tossing and turning in the bed. Didn’t know if he’d be able to get out of the nightmare that he was in. It all seemed like Roy was behind this. And Roy was mostly playing some PvP on a game of _Metal Gear Online Redux_ – Frisk had invited him to their server. Asriel didn’t care. Roy had the volume down anyway.

 

The volume down.

 

The vending machine down the hallway. Right next to the elevators. Asriel had gotten up to get a snack. Maybe a midnight one. He took out his wallet and swiped his student ID – he had about $50 bucks to blow on campus-related goodies. He didn’t want any NYU T-shirts. And then his hand – he couldn’t feel his hand. He dropped his wallet and looked at his hand. It reflexively balled up and seemed to blend into his arm, merely becoming just another stump. But it was green.

 

Asriel’s eyes widened in terror. He fell to the ground, hyperventilating, and looked at his other arm – going the way of the buffalo. Or vine, it appears. And then he looked at his legs – vines bursting from his feet, everything going number and number until the only thing he could feel was his face. And even then, his face felt more like jelly than flesh. Something grew from the sides of his face – it felt terrible. Blood drawing down his face. He screamed total agony. “ **HELP ME, SOMEBODY HELP ME, I NEED HELP!** ”

  
  
But nobody came. Isn’t that a shame? One of the objects growing from his face fell – a yellow petal. Oh, shit. A yellow petal.

 

“ **I DON’T WANNA BE A FLOWER AGAIN! PLEASE, GOD! I’LL DO ANYTHING! I DON’T WANT TO BE IN PAIN! NO, DON’T LET THIS BE!** ” Even more desperation. Even his fangs seemed to disappear into nothing.

 

But nobody came. Isn’t that a shame?

 

All the compassion he had accrued, accidental and tangential, all melted away. Seemed to fade out like a song to be forgotten. He was hoping for the “Rain When I Die” comeback. Let love flood. Let hate die – not one single soul. Rooted into the linoleum. Blood. Vines. A flower. Screaming. Tears. Everything he had worked up to was all gone. Back at square one.

 

_**What new thing do I need to steal why is life unfair why am I the flower again why am I the flower again I am not Flowey I am not Flowey NOW EVERYBODY I AM NOT FLOWEY I AM NOT FLOWEY GODDAMN IT I AM NOT FLOWEY I AM NOT FLOWEY I AM NOT FLOWEY THIS IS A NIGHTMARE THIS IS A NIGHTMARE AND I CAN WAKE UP PLEASE WAKE UP PLEASE** _

 

And then somebody rather familiar walked up. His companion from his childhood. The one person he wanted to prove the world wasn’t bad. With a knife. Tears in his eyes. Unsure of themselves. Obviously didn’t want to see him in this state.

 

“Sorry.”

 

He couldn’t live on knife’s edge.

 

* * *

 

Asriel screamed himself awake and jolted upright in his bed. Roy was still playing PvP. He attempted to calm down. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to get out of the bed to drag his vaporizer. He had to make do with something.

 

Maybe Roy was behind this. Just maybe. He hoped not.


	5. I’m the one who crossed through space, or stayed where I was, or didn’t exist in the first place.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy gets a little say. This is where this story really kicks in. This Gringo Bandito-spiced story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No fake quote this time. Just apologies for the long wait. Trying to land a job as a PA on one of the many film sets near me.

I’m awake.

 

I’m awake.

 

How in the hell am I awake?

 

I thought I died when that kid left the Underground. Or I thought…I just wanted to sleep forever. After every dream crashing down on me, I wanted to give up and experience nothing. Death could bring me nothing. I didn’t want to be a god or be revived – my old body was already desiccated to the point of being unsalvageable. I could see it every so often, flowers sprouting from it, my old clothes unraveling and rotting away, and the happiest smile in the world growing bigger and bigger.

 

To tell you the truth, I wasn’t too happy when I first met that kid. I didn’t feel much of anything. My little brother fucked things up for me because he was too nice. He got a nice hole for the side of his head. I could feel it. It hurt so much that I wanted to cry. I didn’t know we landed next to a local militia! I didn’t know there was a militia at the foothills of Mt. Ebott! But if I have to be in pain to save the monsters, then goddamn it, I had to get shot. Maybe I could get a swing. But I couldn’t. Brother wouldn’t let me. He said it hurt too much. No. We stick to this until the bitter end. But it just got too hard to keep on fighting. We couldn’t take it anymore. My determination wasn’t enough to fight through the pain. It hurt. And it continued to hurt. I tried to get him to smile as he keeled over – maybe he’d be happy in the afterlife. If there was one for monsters, that is. I was doomed to watch the world, unable to do a damn thing.

But that kid taught me something. Despite all he could do, he couldn’t put up a fight. Even in the moments when it seemed like he was only going to be yet another human, something overcame him, he cried, and he restarted the whole thing. Funny – it was a little like Homura Akemi from that show I saw a long time ago. He wanted to find a new way to save my brother. I tried telling him that he couldn’t do it – that it was impossible – but eventually he found a way. Care for someone enough and the laws of nature demand that a vessel for their positive emotions be created. It was hard – it took him 100 resets just to figure that out. The only way I could really see if he had progressed was when he met that little temporary goat right under the hole where I should’ve died and he stated that instead of me not being a good person, he wished that he loved me more when he was alive. I felt myself drifting away when I heard that – my presence hadn’t been in vain. Everything I did wasn’t a curse to him or his parents. Maybe I could be a good person if I tried. But I didn’t have a second chance. At least I could go out on the notion that I didn’t have to kill or be killed. That kid tried to help me. He’s a nice dude. Well, they, now. I get little things now and again.

 

So why am I awake?!

 

A car accident, outside Buffalo, New York. Parked on the side of the Interstate. Looks like the whole thing was totaled. I heard somebody using the jaws of life to rip the door open – just so they could put me in a black bag, I presumed. They were rather shocked when they saw, according to them, “my eyes contract and dilate and my breaths begin again.” The moment I woke up. I couldn’t move a damn thing except for my left arm – and I waited until they broke the door open and dragged me to the gurney until I asked in a voice I knew wasn’t mine, “How do I look? Mirror, please.”

 

Somebody held up a cell phone set to the front camera and I looked at myself.

 

This isn’t me. What body is this? Who am I? Who did I possess? I don’t want to kill anybody! I don’t want to kill! I learned my lesson! Somebody help me! Somebody help me!

 

And then it hit me.

* * *

 

I screamed myself awake. I had always hoped that every time I had to relive that, I was going to wake up in the castle, the buttercups unable to kill me – so I could start from scratch and get the help I really want. But instead, I’m in the new body, with the Prince trying to sleep after yet another nightmare. Over the past year, I did everything I could to make myself feel like myself – I shaved off all my facial hair and made sure to remove every trace of it with laser therapy; I grew my hair much longer, closer to the length I remembered it being; I found some sweaters and brown legwear, closer to the ones I’d wear around my brother; and I began hormone therapy to best resemble the person I always was. I had no interference – the SOUL that once inhabited this body before the car accident had vanished into the Prototype, the place all souls are theorized to go to when their vessels die.

 

I had to stick by that name – Roy – that stuck like knives in my ears. It hurt to be called Roy, even by those I knew directly. I just wanted to out myself – I’m Chara, use she/her/herself – but given that Prince wasn’t reacting to any of my subtle hints with positive emotion, I felt like I should just hold off on it. But I didn’t want to be Roy anymore. Roy’s dead. I happen to have Roy’s body. All Roy’s parents know is that their loving son is transitioning into a girl. But they don’t know that I’m a new being. And even if I did – even if the news broke out that I’m an outside soul interfering with a dead man’s body – I’d get shit from the trans community because I’d be the Uncle Tom. I’d just prove to their detractors that they’re not genuine – that they’re just demons possessing other bodies.

 

But I’m not a demon. I’ve never been. I’ve gone close – I felt what it was like to have LOVE, but it really hurt. All I could do was smile – and my smile hurt. My whole body hurt.

 

Then again, I had a similar predicament before all of this happened. I wasn’t happy with myself. I had the wrong body – the wrong stuff – to really feel happy. Brother called me his big brother, but I desperately wanted to be called sister. I never told him – and at the rate things are going, I don’t think I’d be able to tell him. I could just wear “girl clothes,” but is there a way that I can feel the way I feel and not desire to wear girl clothes? Even when I wrote Mom’s royal robes, I knew it didn’t feel like me. But I knew that I wasn’t a boy – not by a long shot. I really liked planting flowers – well, so did brother, but he wasn’t into it like me. He wanted to be king. He was drunk off of the lust of being royalty.

 

I woke up and my body hurt. It was filling out nicely, becoming something that I could recognize and not get scared at. I held on to whatever was in the middle – I don’t like talking about that sort of thing. Not when I’m talking to you. None of your damn business. But my body hurt.

 

I walked over to the dorm bathroom, drew some water from the tap, and splashed some on my face. I looked at myself – and I blushed. My cheeks weren’t as red as they were when I was in the old body, but I could still blush like that sometimes. I made sure not to do it around Prince and that kid. They’d get scared and try to throw me off of the roof. I’ve heard all the bad stories – every breakfast and dinner I have with them, be it at the dining hall or at some random diner we come across on the weekends, they always talk about how cool of a person this “Sans” is. Apparently, thanks to a freak accident in the lab, a scientist who worked for Mom and Dad at one point got split into two beings and nobody remembers who he is. But they remember who the two beings are – one’s this braggadocio asshole who thinks he’s a great puzzle-maker while the other’s this short dude who teleports anywhere within a 100-mile radius and has a successful line of businesses he sometimes sits at and sleeps. I’ve seen them in the tabloids before – and I’ve seen two figures like that when I hung out with that kid. Papyrus and Sans – skeleton brothers, thick and thin. Papyrus married that robot who took over every media outlet in the world whereas Sans didn’t do anything. Mom and Dad aren’t together, according to Prince. He doesn’t expect a reunion.

 

They said that in three of the timelines where that kid was forced to smile every single moment of their waking life, they had to deal with a kid with long hair, red eyes, and a razor-sharp smile. They were so happy that they got to kill people – that they got to kill just to kill. I wanted to tell them that I couldn’t control it – that I wanted to kill people because that’s what that kid made me think all humans were like. And I know I saw them be kind. I know they had that potential. But that kid couldn’t do it – they’d either jab the knife in their eyes or they’d get their neck broken by Sans. And those moments really hurt. But they showed me that the kid was beginning to realize that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than a power trip. If I had to see Sans die, I’d just lose it and try to kill that kid. Sans was so nice – and I didn’t want to kill him. Not my best friend.

 

But this Sans – looks like he wasn’t taking Reunification too nicely, according to Prince and that kid. He attempted to date Mom, but he couldn’t keep it together. He kept smiling, but they said that he knew that he wasn’t going to keep up this shtick much longer. So he kept to himself, trying to prevent the damn thing from happening again. They hadn’t heard from him since, but they knew that he was always watching. That’s why they went to college in New York – so he couldn’t teleport and try to end it all. I was afraid that one day, I’d meet that Sans and my life would be over. Because if all he could see in Frisk was me desperately trying to stop the whole ordeal, then he could see me even if this new vessel.


	6. The ice is turning to water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy!Chara thinks it's a good idea to out herself to people she has wronged in the past. Frisk and Asriel take it as well as you'd expect.
> 
> I need to update those tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Deep and meaningful symbolism."  
> \- Pete Rose, cleansing all of baseball

It was only a matter of time Roy revealed herself to Asriel.

After another breakfast where they all talked about Sans, the four of them – Frisk, Asriel, MK, and Roy – attended the only class they had together: introduction to film. Nice – a core class they could all be at. Asriel was still on edge, but since Roy was here to stay, he couldn’t do much of anything to stop his panic attacks. Sure, there was the vaping thing, but even that only worked to a point. Either way, there was quite a bit to lose.

When they all sat down, Roy looked at Asriel and asked, “Hey, uh, Prince, I know I’ve been a snarky sonofabitch, but you mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure, whatever,” Asriel muttered. He wanted this to be done with as soon as possible.

“Do you believe that people can change if they try hard enough?” Roy asked rather sheepishly. _Out of character for his jerk ass_.

Asriel nodded his head. “Isn’t it your responsibility to try to better yourself and to learn from your mistakes? You know, not try to scare me with your smiles and demon eyes?”

Roy reluctantly nodded. “Well, I want to say something.” Hesitation.

A moment, then Asriel asked, “What’s the hold-up?”

“I’m your sister, Azzy.”

Asriel was confused. _Wait, I didn’t have a sister. I know Chara was on the feminine side, but I didn’t oh wait oh_

 

_Oh fuck_

_Roy’s Chara_

_ROY’S CHARA OH SHIT OH GOD OH NO NO NO_

_Alright Azzy calm down you’re okay you have Frisk McFrisky the finest vessel of determination in the world or whatever their surname is they’ll protect you from_

 

“What do you mean, Roy?” Asriel timidly asked.

“I’m your sister. I’m Chara.”

Oh Jesus oh God please help me oh dear god DON’T KILL ME PLEASE DON’T KILL ME I DON’T WANT TO TURN INTO A FLOWER AGAIN

Asriel looked into Chara’s red eyes and screamed into his bookbag.

Chara turned to Frisk, who was also extremely timid, and asked, “What’s with him?”

* * *

Frisk and Chara stood in one of the stairwells, away from any eavesdropping teacher (but next to several vending machines of increasingly expensive wares) and Asriel, whose screams were echoing throughout the entire building. Frisk wasn’t too happy – it was the first time in a while they stopped doing their Clint Eastwood impression and opened their similarly colored eyes.

“One of the first things Azzy told me – when I first redeemed him – was that you taught him **that thing. That terrible fuckin’ credo.** ” Frisk fumed, unable to hold in their pent-up anger.

“I-I-I didn’t know better, Frisk. I was a hurt kid. I hurt Dad. I was gonna hurt Mom. I didn’t want to hurt Asriel. I thought bullets wouldn’t stop him! He’s an innocent kid! Why would a militia try to kill an innocent kid?!” Chara was wracked with immense guilt.

“You should’ve told him. Or, well, you shouldn’t have made that plan in the first place. You lived on the surface, you know what was at the foothills-”

“ **BUT I DIDN’T, FRISK! I DIDN’T KNOW!** ” Chara was so close to crying on the spot. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get Frisk to believe her. “If you were called a ‘sissy boy’ by everybody in your town and the only people kind enough to care for you were going to be killed by your hand, would you want to destroy humanity? Fact is, Frisk: monsters really did care about me. And I shouldn’t have made up that stupid plan. We could’ve had a happy life. I was gonna come out to Azzy, Mom, and Dad. I swear!”

Frisk was confused. “Why did you mention that?”

“The reason why I hated-“  
  
“No, not that. Your ‘coming out.’ You look like a boy. Yeah, a bit cherub-ish in the face – and glad to see that funerary blush is gone – but you’re a boy. On the outside.”

“Oh, wow. Real fuckin’ classy.”

“Look, Chara, I didn’t mean it like that. You just don’t pass good.”

“You and I don’t pass. For boys or for girls. We’re dead stuck in the fucking middle.”

Chara walked away. Maybe she’d have a better chance of trying to talk with Asriel.

* * *

 

Asriel stood out in the hallway, trying his hardest to calm down. He had already worked down his last vial of e-cig liquid, so he tried to remember some yoga breathing techniques Toriel taught him when she was flirting around with it. Breathe in, breathe out. He didn’t know if it was helping. On some level, he could feel the militia bullets carving holes in his body.

_Chara it hurts it really hurts_

 

**Of course it’s gonna hurt, Asriel! Why aren’t you Hyper Gonering their asses?**

_They're innocent Chara they don't mean harm_

**They hurt me they killed my daddy they really hurt me Asriel I have to teach you a little something it’s kill or be killed**

_That's terrible advice_

**If you’d just listen to be you wouldn’t be coughing up blood and you wouldn’t be my Lt. Dan of a brother**

_who the hell is he  
_

**Not telling you Asriel you really screwed the pooch with this one I mean Gus Grissom obviously opened the door to his capsule you’re like him**

_stop doing that Chara  
_

 

**Doing what you should’ve hurt them IT’S NOT FAIR ASRIEL IT’S NOT FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE YOU YOU FAGGOT**

_how did you know that I'm different  
_

**I hate you why won't you fuckin' die you're worthless I hate you you disappoint me**

 

Chara walked up to him. Asriel immediately froze and shook his head.

The goatmonster stammered out, “R-r-r-ro-“

Chara sat right next to him and took out a cigarette. She lit it up and took a drag before slapping her once-brother on the face.

She said, “ **Don’t call me that.** ”

“But you’re in Roy’s body! What about what he’s feeling?!”

“He was dead before I woke up. The body was cold. His SOUL was long gone.” Chara’s voice shook.

“ **What about me? What about THE SHIT THAT I HAD TO DEAL WITH? FOR EIGHT STRAIGHT YEARS?** ”

Chara stood up and scowled. “It wasn’t my fault. You didn’t want to protect yourself.”

“Because you kept begging me to kill somebody. I can’t kill a living creature. Well, maybe except for fish. Save for Undyne, they’re not too nice.”

“A pescetarian, huh?”

Silence. _What in the hell did that have to do with_

Chara asked, “Azzy, I know I’ve done some horrible, horrible things to you in the past. And I should’ve been more open with you. And I shouldn’t have been a total dick. But I’m really, really sorry for what happened to you.”

“Are you really?” Asriel nervously responded.

Chara nodded, with tears in her eyes.

“I need help, Asriel. I want to be better. You’re the only person I know who could fix my problems.”

Silence. Then Asriel: “Fine, but on one condition.”

“What?”  
  
“Don’t hurt Frisk. And don’t hurt me. There are people who know you and they’ll **end you** **if you dare lay a blade on me.** ”

“Like Sans, right?” Chara chimed in. She understood that subtext.

“I think he’d do much more than end you. He’d make you wish you were never born. Especially now that he’s off the deep end.”

Chara thought, _well, this is off to a rocky start._

* * *

 

The roof of the dormitory. 9 pm. New York City got pretty dark at night, save for the obligatory skyscraper electric bills going up into the millions. The visibility was rather decent – one could see Times Square on a day like this. Crickets were singing. Flowers bloomed in bodegas and rooftop gardens alike.

Chara thought she was in her own personal hell. A rather stern Frisk and Asriel faced her, sitting close to the ledge. From the looks of it, they didn’t trust her at all. Obviously. She woke up in a dead man’s body and wants to sidestep her involvement in certain events. Time will sort this stuff out. But for now, she’s not on their good side.

“I have nightmares every single night of the most painful smile on my face. Where I killed all my friends. Even after Reunification, the smile continued to hurt. And I was forced to kill. I tried to hold back, but something’d dislocate my shoulder just to insert the knife in them. And then you came back, thanking me for ruining the world. And being happy about it,” Frisk slowly said, giving all their might to not break Chara’s neck, “Of course I hate you. For a while, you took away everything I worked so hard to fix. All because you didn’t get your way a century ago.”

Chara’s eyes widened as Frisk told their story. Her heart beat – she secretly wished that Frisk wouldn’t kill her on the spot. Her wish came true. Frisk didn’t kill her. But Frisk stood up and punched her in the eye. She also remembered those moments – the moments that she deeply regretted. She never was much of an outward-expression type of person – she stuck to her rather blank face which, by default, tended to resemble Frisk’s stoic visage. She knew they were trying to drive her away. For good reason, too – she still remembered her break from sanity. The many bodies she left behind because a downbeat being thought it’d be a good idea to pursue that avenue. The first time they thought about destroying the world they both loved, she was frantic, wrestling over control of the temporarily-joint-controlled body. She was about to keel over and scream had they cut Sans in half the first time around. But Frisk pursued the terrible avenue ad nauseam. And each time, Chara’s spirit was crushed – she knew she couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard she tried, and eventually just gave in. When Frisk reached the end of that avenue – thrice – she was so broken that she wanted to start over. Either that or keep them in check. She couldn’t remember. But she knew she was so broken by what happened that when she wrestled control during each “soulless” timeline, the two would fight to the point where everybody they knew died. The smile. One of the timelines, both of them screwed up so much that a nuclear strike was launched on Mt. Ebott. As they were both screaming in the incineration, Frisk made the wise choice to reset. Frisk had to regain full control of their soul. And Chara needed some time to think.

Tensions were still high after that battle eight years prior. Her past and her present faced her, judging her for her sins.

“Why?” Frisk asked, still unsure of what happened.

Chara didn’t know. But she had one thing to say. For one brief moment, her confidence resurged – it’s like she took 30 boxes of Mentats had they existed – and she stood up.

“I’m not killing myself to make you happy, Frisk. And I’m not dropping out. I have a right to better myself.”

The air was still with anticipation. Frisk didn’t flinch.

They responded, “You had to have come back here for something else besides redemption. You have an eternity to redeem yourself. I didn’t want it to be now.”

“I’m not killing myself to make you happy. I have a right to better myself,” Chara repeated, sure Frisk didn’t get the message the first time.

Asriel chimed in, “Why me? You know I don’t act well to the past. You know I’m a wreck.”

“I’m not killing myself to make you happy. I have a right to better myself,” Chara repeated, a tad tense.

Frisk. “Nobody asked you to take your li-“

“I’m not killing myself to make you happy! I have a right to better myself!” The seeds of being frantic.

Asriel. “Look, Chara, I just want to know why you cam-“

“ **I’m not killing myself to make you happy! I have a right to better myself!** ” Chara was so close. I’m making the same mistake again. I didn’t know dad I didn’t know they were hehehehehe I didn’t know they were poisonous I’M SCUM DAD I’M SCUM YOU ALL KNOW I’M SCUM AND I’M GONNA EMBRACE IT HEHEHEHEHE I’M SCUM I’M INESSENTIAL I’M JUST ANOTHER PLOY I WANNA DIE AZZY I WANNA DIE

Frisk grew concerned as they saw Chara rock back and forth, desperately trying to calm her nerves. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I sounded harsh! I just think there’s some things you need to work out with the both of u-“

“ **I’M NOT KILLING MYSELF TO MAKE YOU HAPPY! I HAVE A RIGHT TO BETTER MYSELF!** ” Chara collapsed to the ground, curled up, and bawled. Tears streamed down her face. If it weren’t for her aversion to makeup, she’d normally resemble the demon from their nightmares. “I’m trying, Frisk. I’m trying.”

Frisk stood up, kneeled to where Chara was, and rubbed their hand on her back in a circular motion. Chara’s crying grew worse. Frisk motioned for the goatmonster to walk over – Asriel did just that, kneeled down, and hugged Chara.

Chara’s cries slowed down. And at that moment, the three of them knew. They knew she was docile. Still, a good weapons search would help calm their nerves down.

* * *

 

The dorm kitchen, 10 p.m. Chara sat at a table, wrapped in a blanket and silently sipping on some nighttime-blend tea. She looked down, her face red from crying so much, and knew she wouldn’t be trusted as she was in the past.

Within eyeshot, Frisk, Asriel, and MK stood around one of the counters, discussing something with intense concern.

Kid. “Are you sure it’s the thing that sold the world?”  
  
Asriel nodded his head. “He confessed in film class today. He also says that he’s ‘my sister.’”

Kid was puzzled. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t all people have the right to identity?”

Asriel. “Yeah, but he’s the guy who tried to get me to kill a bunch of people to break the Barrier.” And hesitation. “I really don’t like talking about it.”

Kid. “Don’t beat yourself over it, yo. We all made stupid mistakes before.”  
  
Asriel. “Were you ever transferred into a flower thanks to some sick scientific experiment?”

MK knew he was getting into some really touchy territory, with Asriel’s eyes bugging out. He focused his attention on Frisk. His prehensile tail grabbed a cup of Sea Tea and he sipped it. Oh gosh it’s still hot

Frisk. “I think she’s gone through a lot, but I can’t trust her. Not after what she did. I had to go through five resets just to get her off my back. On the bright side, her jokes to Woshua were kinda creative.”

Asriel. “They’re not jokes. He was under a lot of pain when he died. I can still hear the groans from time to time. They’re not something you can repress.”

Kid. “So Asriel, you’re a pessimist.”

Asriel. “He ruined my life. Being a flower hurts. I mean, physically.”

Kid. “Yeah. You can’t play piano when you’re a sunflower.”

Asriel. “And you can’t dance either. Please don’t talk about that part of my life to me anymore, Kid.”

Kid. “Geez.” To Frisk: “And you, you’re a cautious optimist.”

Frisk nodded their head. “I like to keep all options open. She was once pretty chill before those timelines happened. Maybe she learned her lesson.”

Kid. “Well, in that case, I trust her completely. If you guys hate her, that’s fine, but I’m not gonna sit around and wait for you to waste your opportunity.” Kid walked to Chara.

Chara stared at her tea when she noticed a figure come into view. MK, the monster without arms. Sometimes Monty, sometimes Kid, sometimes MK, sometimes Toby – well, that was a person who met him on the street and confused him for a Toby. Toby’s a dog with an ancient power – to develop video games – not an armless monster who has to use his feet and his tail for everything.

Kid looked at Chara and asked, “Rough night, huh?”

Chara nodded, “Yeah. I still don’t get why Azzy and Frisk won’t trust me. I don’t want to hurt them. I just want help.”

Kid. “They want to. They just don’t know if you’re, you know, for real. Prince over there’s having a big problem with gendering you properly.”

Prince. That reminded Chara of her former character. She slammed her tea down. “I shouldn’t have revealed myself. I should’ve stayed Roy. You know, for my brother’s sake.”

“It’s not your fault, Carrie. You just acted a little too soon.” Kid grabbed a Kleenex with his tail and gave it to Chara. She wiped her eyes.

“I just…I just want help.” Chara wept.

Kid. “Help with **what**?

“The timeline. I haven’t felt something like that since the old Royal Scientist screwed the pooch.”

 

 

 

Kid sat in shock. “Wait. There was a scientist before my dumpy nerd of a cousin?”


	7. It's been a hell of a do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College visitation day. Painting. Not a lot of revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "evil thing I say to make you think I'm evil"  
> \- villain

The day of visitation was here. Asriel couldn’t get any sleep last night, he was so excited. Finally, he thought, he could show his family around New York City, show him the dorm, and even his friends. Not that those wouldn’t be surprises – he sent them a few picture texts here and there, but a picture is not as good as having flesh and blood see the place you’re staying at. You can’t disappoint a picture, as Donald Glover once screamed out, but a picture simply doesn’t feel like the complete object. It’s why tourism exists.

Well, there needs to be some clarification. The family that was coming over didn’t include his father, Asgore. If I remember correctly, one of the reasons why Asriel enrolled in NYU is so he could visit his father, _ambassador pro tempore_ His Kinship and Benevolence King Asgore Dreemurr III – the title was a post-Reunification addendum, suggested by current only-member-of-the-Royal-Guard and premier talent agent Papyrus. All Asriel had to do was to take the M over to Union Station, walk down to the United Nations, and look for the Monster Consulate, which included Asgore’s apartment and Asriel’s sometimes-bedroom.

It wasn’t that special, nor was it rare, for him to visit his father on off days and have a cup of tea – maybe do some gardening on the rooftop. Chara wasn’t invited – for obvious reasons – but she always wanted to come over. Then again, if those little tales Frisk told were true, Asgore would stop, look at Chara, and wonder why there are two Charas in the same room. It’s always concerned me since Roy’s body doesn’t really look like my old one. Then again, what happened to that one?

No, Toriel, who had gone from teaching 9th grade at the Dual Races School in Humboldt County to being the administrator of the whole region, paid good money for plane tickets. Unlike her son and his friends, she wasn’t going to spend a week road-tripping just to enter into the hell that is NYC-inbound midday gridlock traffic.

Frisk, when they broke the Barrier, had the choice of leaving their new friends or staying with Toriel – for the first hundred resets. Since Toriel couldn’t support two children – she didn’t have the immense stash of gold Asgore had (and a teacher’s salary in the state of Jefferson didn’t cover much) – Frisk had no choice but to live with the significantly-financially-well-off Undyne and Alphys, who found what they needed in Portland.

No, they didn’t open up a feminist bookstore.

 

Alphys, with her innate knowledge of Japan from its language to the culture, landed a job overseeing translation and dubbing of the hottest anime at one of those corporations that distributes Japanese works in English-speaking countries. Undyne, now that she couldn’t fight anymore – she tried enrolling in the Marine Corps, but the branches of the American military didn’t allow monsters to serve – bought some blacksmith equipment and began making custom-to-order swords of all shapes and sizes. They still visited Toriel and Asriel from time to time – not often, since the drive was a seven-hour one – but from these visits, Frisk and Asriel’s relationship blossomed.

Either way, three women were visiting Frisk and Asriel – and Chara and Monster Kid would get to see them if they cared to. Monster Kid was hyped – he hadn’t seen his nerdy cousin in a while.

As for Chara, well…

* * *

 

“Just say you’re Roy today. I don’t want them to freak out,” Asriel nervously stated as he got another text from his mom.

He sat in his car, Chara sitting up front. The car sat in one of the front parking spots over at LaGuardia, away from the endless taxis and Uber drivers.

Frisk was still asleep when Asriel got up for his morning exercise routine – and Toriel’s flight came in at 11 am, so there was no use waking up that sack of determination. So Chara it was.

Chara raised her seat up and looked at herself through one of the side mirrors – despite her lack of facial hair and any trace of the Roy she stubbornly erased, she still looked boyish. Her olive-green army cap matted down her hair and helped with the disguise. She couldn’t do much about the rosacea though. Oh, well. Maybe that’s why I was given this.

She rolled down her window and took a drag from a menthol cigarette.

“Mom doesn’t like it when I smoke. I doubt she’d be okay with you,” Asriel suggested. Ping. Another text – “we’re being taxied in. we’ll meet up with you at the front.”

Asriel added, “They’re about to disembark. You better hurry with that Newport.”

Chara sighed and looked at the sky overhead. The blue skies reminded her of something – something she couldn’t exactly recall. Planes coming and going. Some to upstate New York, others across the pond, and the rest to space. She kept forgetting that there was interplanetary travel in the time she was in.

Sooner or later, she finished her cigarette, threw the butt out of the window, and rolled it up. Asriel, for safe measure, took out one of those air-vent air fresheners – pumpkin spice scent – and turned the AC to max.

 

Eventually, a KNOCK on Asriel’s door. The roommates looked out – Toriel in her towering majesty, alongside a frazzled, obviously-afraid-of-flying-but-doesn’t-want-to-say-anything Undyne, and a surprisingly casual-for-once Alphys, in a custom-print NERV T-shirt and cargo shorts. All of them had suitcases – they were going to stay a couple of nights at one of those timeshare hotels and see the sights. And they were all sitting in the back.

Asriel and Chara stepped out of the car, the former immediately jumping into his mother’s arms. Toriel took the embrace rather well.

As Asriel let go from the hug, he said, “Mom, meet Roy. My roommate.”

“Is he your new boyfriend?” Toriel asked, curious.

Asriel shook his head.

Chara chimed in. “Well, my preferred pronouns are she/her/herself. I haven’t told my folks yet. And I haven’t thought of a new name.”

Toriel walked to Chara and hugged her. She immediately apologized for the misgendering. “How’s my son been, Roy?”

“He’s been going. He’s not too bad. Sometimes **A BIT ON THE HARSH SIDE!** ” Chara glared at Asriel. Asriel gulped.

Undyne, having just finished off her third sick bag, noticed this, took Chara to the side, and scolded her. “ **HEY, DWEEB! THE PRINCE HAS BEEN THROUGH A LOT, SO EXCUSE HIM FOR BEING HARSH, OKAY?** ”

Chara quickly nodded her head. Nobody told me about the fish. Nobody told me she screamed a lot. I bet she learned English from watching Goldthwait on Showtime.

Undyne thankfully calmed down and stuck out her hand. “Sorry for the rude introduction. The name’s Undyne. Frisk’s mom.”

Chara chuckled. “So, what do you want to see in New York? The high crime rate? The bad Broadway shows? _RENT_ having a residency for the past half a century? The overpriced restaurants?”

Undyne leaned into Chara’s ear and whispered, “Anime store.” Of course. Is that all she likes? I mean, other than cooking like a psychopath?

“Is there anything you like?” asked Chara, “Other than Japanese cartoons?”

“They’re not cartoons! Jeez!” Undyne scoffed, obviously insulted by Chara’s choice of words, “There’s just something magical about anime that you can’t get from anything else!”

“Ralph Bakshi,” Chara bluntly stated. I don’t even like him.

“He’s a tryhard,” Undyne retorted, “Doesn’t get _it_.”

“I could say some choice words about Otomo and Ann-“ Chara began.

Asriel immediately butted in and, attempting to be the mediator, urged everybody to climb into the car.

* * *

 

“What a nice place, Azzy-pie!” Toriel stated as she walked down the rather decorated themed hallway – Doctor Who everywhere. A bit of graffiti on the bottom of the left-hand wall heading to Asriel’s dorm – a P with a circle around it. What kind of tag is that?

Asriel, his face red from total embarrassment, sheepishly complained, “Don’t say that, Mom.”

“What? You mean ‘Azzy-pie’?”

Chara chuckled. I don’t remember that from when I lived with them.

“Yeah. It makes me look ‘uncool.’” Asriel hid his head in his flannel overshirt.

Toriel turned to Chara and said, “He’s been begging me to stop for years.”

“Do it. Just do it. Give him hell, Mrs. Dreemurr,” Chara advised under her laughs. She hid her face with her shirt rather decently – if only to hide that smile.

Eventually, they got to Asriel’s dorm. Chara opened the door, having stopped smiling, and let the visitors inside. She almost shut the door behind her when she noticed Frisk, still in their pajamas, walking out of their dorm. They walked to the door and pushed it open.

“I thought you were still asleep,” Chara said to Frisk.

Frisk responded, “I told Azzy I was gonna go. But nope, I wasn’t quick enough for him. I guess he likes assholes like you.”

Chara forced the door shut in front of Frisk. She walked to her side of the room and noticed Toriel looking at a poster she tacked on – one of those generic dorm-room posters on sale. Between that and the hang-in-there-Toby-dog-Toby-thing-Toby-whatever-in-the-hell-that-animal-was-but-it-sure-looks-like-a-dog-dog. She wisely chose _Pulp Fiction_.

Toriel seemed to recognize the poster. Rather odd – the Patron Saint of Dual-Race Education didn’t look like the kind of woman who’d watch a comedy where one of the gags is that a mob boss’ wife overdoses on smack she mistook for coke. Not that Undyne and Alphys paid much attention – they were used to some of Toriel’s weird discrepancies. And Asriel thought she was just looking at Chara’s side of the room.

“Roy,” the goatmom asked Chara, “This movie’s ancient.”  
  
“Yeah,” Chara responded, “It sure seems like it. Everybody in that movie’s long gone, but it’s like it somehow still works. I guess that’s how film works: keep something forever and it still resonates.”

“Isn’t that what good art does?” asked Toriel.

Chara turned to Asriel’s side of the room and noticed a painting on the wall she had seen a million times before. An impressionistic sunset by a beach. The beings on the beach simplified much further than what Monet and Seurat could do with their failing eyes – if anything, it was as if a born-to-the-movement Cubist painted a Kinkade at all possible angles, one after another. But none of the college art traits were there – no overly personal subject matter, no outlines, no shaky brushstrokes, no overuse of gouache. Just a straightforward oil painting. If anything, it should’ve been on 53rd, but somehow this professional piece sat on the wall of a dorm by a prince who otherwise didn’t collect any form of art. Not even his friends’ prints. That photo album was the most he had – and since move-in, he dared not open it in fear the nightmares return.

Chara tugged on Toriel’s tail, which prompted the goatmother to turn around and look face-to-face at the painting.

“I’ve always wondered how that dork managed to get that painting,” Chara pondered.

“It was in the attic,” Toriel responded, “I didn’t know it was even there. I moved everything out of the Ruins so quickly that I didn’t have time to check everything.”

“What was going through your mind,” Chara asked, “when you painted it?”

* * *

 

Silence. Not in the room – Asriel still entertained Undyne and Alphys with his tales of college life (and somehow managed to let Frisk into the room) – but between Chara and Toriel. Not like anybody else in the room knew who painted it – they just thought it was some undiscovered Matisse from his Fauvist days but before he went really wild with the color contrast. Or a canvas reprint of some thrift-store painting that happened to look good.

“Well, it’s not like I was on the shore or anything,” Toriel began, “I was just relaying memories that an old friend of mine told me.”

“On the throne?" Silence. Chara had obviously touched a nerve. "I mean, it’s obviously Asgore, but-”

“We were still in art school when I painted this. It was part of my senior thesis. I had to put on a show based on an idea that best showcased the ideas I embodied.”

“Why was Asgore in art school?”

“He didn’t think he was right to be king. In a way, he was right, but in another way, before everything bad happened, he was the perfect ruler. It also helped that he was terrible at everything else but gardening.” Toriel chuckled, reminded of a noticeably death-free memory of her ex-husband.

“Sounds like a certain someone I know.” Chara glanced at Asriel with joking disdain. The goatbrother sighed and walked out of the dorm.

“He does take after his father quite a bit. Must be monster genetics.”

“You know, the best of both worlds – he can make a killer butts-I mean butterscotch-cinnamon pie.” Despite the slip, Chara managed to chuckle. That joke never gets old. Butts pie. Christ, I’m a genius.

“Back to what I was saying: Asgore told me all these crazy things about how the surface world had all these beaches and all this art that constantly deconstructed what people could see. Everything was abstracted, but beautiful. Since I was the only one he knew who liked the Fauvists, he told me that just to get his idea into a senior capstone. It worked. I don’t know how, but it worked.” A big wave of nostalgia in Toriel. And Chara too.

* * *

 

I had locked myself in one of the unused rooms of the new home. I was in one of those moods – I can’t remember if I was in the mood that scares me or if I was really scared.  Whatever it was, I couldn’t remember the lead-up. I came to in that room, crying for what seemed like no reason – bits and pieces of a TV screen from my prior life, showing a terrible event, flooded my mind. Overall, I had this very disgusted feeling – as if what I was born into didn’t mesh with what I truly was.

Mom eventually entered the room and comforted me. With her soothing voice, she asked me what was wrong and I – afraid of what she was going to say about my particular predicament – told her that I couldn’t get out of the dumps. Alas, there was no magic to fix whatever it was, but she did tell me little things to soothe me. About things in the room. One of them was a canvas with a Fauvist-esque sunset at some beach somewhere. It was too clean to have been salvaged from the garbage dump outside Hotland, but it wasn’t like there were tons of human bodies lying around from when that painter made that piece.

Mom said she painted it through Dad’s anecdote. Sure, he wasn’t a good artist – not good enough to do a senior show – but he had ideas. Mom took final credit so Dad wouldn’t pretend to be a blind painter with silky long hair and tons of fake seizures only to come out with a finished product for the entertainment robots some guy made. Can’t remember his name – he looked a little funny. Talked like a glitch. Mostly signed everything. Still can’t remember his name. Even the dead know no peace. Whatever the end result, the painting was beautiful. For a while, it made me seem like all was right with the world.

 

**ALL WAS RIGHT UNTIL YOU SAW THAT STUPID PAINTING.**

**YOU DIDN’T FOLLOW THROUGH, CHARA. YOU KNOW YOU’RE LOST WITHOUT ME. YOU SHOULD’VE DONE THE DEED THEN AND THERE. YOU KNOW YOU’RE JUST ANOTHER SICK TWISTED BEING LIKE ME. YOU KNEW EVERYTHING TERRIBLE WOULD HAPPEN. YOU KNEW YOU’D FUCK UP ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.**

**BECAUSE YOU’RE HUMAN.**

**YOU’RE GOING TO DESTROY SOMEBODY. IT’S IN YOUR BLOOD, CHARA. I MADE YOU LAUGH – I MADE YOU LAUGH EVEN WHEN YOU BEGGED ME TO STOP. EVEN AS YOU CRIED I MADE YOU LAUGH. PLANT THOSE LITTLE SILLY THINGS IN THAT KID’S MIND. WE COULD’VE HAD THE WORLD, CHARA. BUT INSTEAD, YOU BROKE. AFTER COUNTLESS BROKEN DEALS, YOU COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. INSTEAD OF KILLING THE VESSEL, YOU KILLED YOURSELF. YOU FREED THEM. WE COULD’VE BEEN PERFECT.**

**BUT NOW, YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME.**

**BECAUSE, IN THIS WORLD, IT’S KILL OR BE KILLED.**

* * *

 

Chara and Asriel stood in the room, the others in the hallway, and stared at the painting. Much to Chara’s surprise, Asriel had eavesdropped every single bit of his roommate’s conversation with his mom.

“So my mom was one hell of a painter, huh?” Asriel asked.

“Yeah,” Chara gave a low-key response.

“How’d you figure that one out? And, for the love of God, don’t say the tabloids. If I didn’t know, they sure as fuck didn’t.”

“She’d tell me about how she painted that just to calm me down. Eventually, it got to the point where looking at the painting would do the same thing.”

“Yeah. I think that’s the power of this thing. Reminds me of home. Looking at it sometimes works better than all my e-cig juice.”

“It just makes you feel like all is right with the world.”

Asriel nodded.


	8. maiden of the Cancer moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planning a day trip, Asriel gets an unexpected visitor from somebody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Commence with the ability to do the thing within Harlem."  
> \- Francis of the Filth

The alarm clock on Asriel’s smartphone blared – the boss monster opened his eyes, relieved that yet another night of nightmares had passed. Unable to wake up during said terrors – and unwilling to, since his psychiatrist kept suggesting that he should face his fears head-on – Asriel dreaded the idea of sleep, yet he knew he had to have it. As long as he was in his pre-childrearing state, he would age until his body caved in – and he had to take care of it. Lots of sleepytime-blend tea was had just to lull himself into the neverending nightmare – lots of screaming, torture, generally being a dick to everybody, being betrayed by his best friend…you name it, he experienced it.

 

Today was supposed to be a reprieve from the day-in-day-out of studies and impressing family. He had promised Frisk and Chara that they’d go on one of those Blue Line double-decker buses and hopefully catch the uploaded consciousness of Speed Levitch endlessly pontificating about a city that he could only experience through security cameras and the pulsating power grid. After all, he could squeeze in a visit with his father at the consulate since the tour bus stopped there – and given the nature of sightseeing in New York City, those buses were easily accessible. There was a caveat – they had to wake up kind of early. 6:30 a.m. early. Chara kept insisting that they stop by 30 Rock – she had irresponsibly binged through the show in four days – and see if they see the “real Jack Donaghy.” Asriel couldn’t bear to tell her that maybe – just maybe – _30 Rock_ wasn’t for real. After all, while Asriel’s shotgunned many a pizza, the average human couldn’t. It’s still real to me, damn it.

 

Besides, probably getting on one of the daytime talk shows was pretty cool. The crowds often gathered outside 30 Rock in hopes of being featured on camera. Chara even had a sign ready – “hey, Ma! I’m on TV!”

 

Asriel stumbled out of his bed and nudged Chara awake with his foot. “Hey, sleepyhead. Time for your big break.”

 

Chara’s eyes jolted open. A beautiful pair of red ones. “Big break my ass. I’m just knocking off an item from my bucket list.”

 

“So you want to wake up at 6:15 in the morning, catch the F over to 30 Rock and stand outside in the cold just to get on daytime TV? Wouldn’t you rather, you know, catch the view from the top of the Empire State Building?”

 

“TV’s even better. Besides, there’s an observation deck at 30 Rock. Maybe I’ll run into Jack Donaghy there-“  
  
“He’s not real. He’s a fictional character. And besides, Alec Baldwin’s been dead for 10 years now.”

 

“Look, I’m just saying that if you’re trying to keep a low profile, maybe the last thing you want to do is to be on network TV.”

 

“You seriously think Sans is gonna watch _Today_ and point me out in a crowd of hundreds?”  
  
“Have you looked at yourself recently?”

 

Chara took out her smartphone and looked at herself through the selfie camera. She smiled. “Eh. I could do better. I think I have some foundation somewhere–”  
  
Asriel forced her hand down. “You don’t want to blow your cover. I hear from Dr. Alphys that Sans can literally find you just by listening to the radio.”

 

Chara laughed and walked over to her closet. “What, like that weird anime? Manawa got lucky, that’s all!” She took out a striped T-shirt and a pair of brown slacks.

 

A knock on the door. Asriel yelled, “Come in!”

 

Frisk walked inside and scanned the room. They walked over to Asriel and quickly hugged the fluffy, lanky boss monster.

 

“Is Chara still insisting that we go on the _Today Show_?”

 

Asriel nodded his head.

 

“I’ll try to reason with her.” Frisk walked over to Chara, finishing up putting on her pants.

 

Asriel turned to the bathroom. Frisk interrupted, “You should be lucky that I learned my persuasiveness from all that flirting!” Asriel sighed and closed the door behind him.

 

Frisk sit on the edge of the bunk bed. Chara nervously stared at them.

 

“I…don’t like you. To be fair, I can’t stand the sight of you, but the last thing I want is for you to get your ass handed to you by Sans, especially by something that Azzy and I can control.”

 

“How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry before you get off my back? I’ve done a lot of terrible shit – and I want to make up for that.”  
  
“I don’t think being in the crowd of the _Today Show_ constitutes as making amends, Chara.”

 

“There’s a hundred people there at least–”

 

Frisk interrupted, “And Sans can spot you ANYWHERE. You’re just lucky you’re in New York. If you were in California, he’d rip your SOUL out, eat it for lunch, vomit it AND THEN send it over to Papyrus as a last-minute replacement for Bolognese.”

 

“And what makes you think that–”

 

“You’re out of your fucking element, Chara. And as long as you look like the Chara of his nightmares, you’re not going on TV.”

 

Chara panicked. She quickly dug up her army green cap and a black-and-white skull bandana, along with a pair of absurdly dark sunglasses. Must’ve been from Roy’s collection. She placed the cap on her head, the glasses over her eyes and the bandana over her mouth.

 

“Look at me, Frisk.” Frisk did not answer. “Hey, crap-for-brains. Look at me.”

 

Frisk turned and looked at Chara’s get-up. They sighed. “Fuck it, we’ll be in the audience. Just don’t remove the bandana.”

 

“I won’t! Scouts honor!” Chara giddily exclaimed.

* * *

 

Asriel often vaped in the shower. He often did other things – things that you only heard rich comedians doing in front of women as a cheap sort of power play-cum-fantasy. Not that Asriel was in any remotely erotic mood today. He mostly just had his vaporizer, washing his fur at a rather leisurely pace. He hit his vape.

 

And then the shower curtain opened. Asriel bleated and then he looked around.

 

Nobody.

 

A lone sunflower hung from the ceiling, swaying like if Chara had turned the AC to jet engine blast. Asriel was already on edge – he reflexively took a hit from his vaporizer. He turned the water off, grabbed his towel and walked over to the flower.

 

The flower turned its stem around to reveal a rather familiar face. A really cheery face. A little too cheery. Asriel quickly backed away and reached out for his vaporizer. A friendly vine snatched it.

 

“Howdy, buckaroo! The name’s Flowey. I’m like you, except that I’m a flower that can eat, breathe and other science facts!”

 

Asriel bolted for the door, but the flower managed to get in front of it.

 

“Ol’ Prince got himself a real body with a real SOUL this time. Not this SOUL Substitute or whatever that faggoty-ass robot’s been selling on the Internet. But you know like they say – real SOULS get really, really mushy! And trust me – you don’t wanna mix any of that with your buddies. The last time that happened, their brains all blew up except for their greatest hits!”

 

“ **HELP! FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK, HELP ME!** ” Asriel screamed.

 

The vine threw the vaporizer on the floor. CRASH!

 

Asriel glanced at his broken tool. _Goddamn it I don’t wanna pay another 70 for that and besides I told mom I’d give up cigarettes_

 

_**Hey** _

 

_Wait, how can you read my thoughts_

 

**_I'm like you but I'm not like you_ **

 

Asriel looked for a way out. Vines extended from the ceiling and grabbed the boss monster’s head, forcing his eyes open and always looking at that flower. One of the vines reached for Asriel’s hand and lifted it right next to the petal. The hand seemed to melt. Ice cream on the sidewalk on a summer’s day. But nothing more.

 

“You don’t know, do ya? Sure, I’m you but without a body and without a soul, but I’m also my own being.”

 

“I thought I got rid of you! You’re just me when I’m mean! You’re me at my lowest! How did you get away from me?”

 

Flowey smiled.

 

“It’s all too complicated to explain, but the short of it is that I was never you.”

 

“But you were me!”

 

“Oh, no. Not like that, buckaroo. I mean I never got my redemption. And frankly, I’d like to take yours away.”

 

The door burst open. Frisk, Chara and MK all stared at the odd sight. Asriel staring straight into the eyes of a familiar ill-tempered flower. And Flowey relishing in the moment as best as he could.

 

Chara threw a shoe at the flower. Flowey screamed and turned towards it. A person in a skull bandana, black sunglasses and a green army cap stood in their way.

 

“Christ, it’s you! You’re the guy who punched Richard Spencer!”

 

“You mean girl!” Chara shouted.

 

Flowey was confused. Asriel turned to Chara and tried to struggle himself out of the vines.

 

The goat exclaimed, “Oh, thank God you’re here, Chara!”

 

Flowey’s eyes widened.

 

“My brother?”

 

Chara rolled her eyes and sighed. Before she could throw yet another shoe, the flower faded away from existence. Bad video edit. Asriel fell to the floor, still freaked out. His vaporizer was still broken.

 

Everybody looked at the ceiling in confusion.

* * *

 

Duane Reade, Broadway, 6:45 a.m.

 

Asriel stood at the counter with a fiver in his hands, his eyes scanning the entire cigarette collection. _I promised Mom I’d quit smoking I promised Mom I’d quit smoking and now I’m here being forced to smoke by myself who claims that he isn’t actually me while also being me_

 

Frisk and Chara stood by the tea dispensers. Chara had a hot chocolate in her hand, occasionally lifting her bandana to sip on it.

 

Frisk looked off into space. “Look, Chara, I still don’t like you, but…holy fuck, you did something right. Or tried to.”

 

“Nobody fucks with my brother, Frisk.”

 

“I dunno. Those hundred times you stabbed him, fifty times you cooked him and garnished some chicken livers with his petals, twenty times you bit the bullet and ate him, only to die again; at least ten times where you busted out Asgore’s lawnmower and turned him into mulch, only to have him turn into the entire yard and about enslave the world-”  
  
“I get it. I did stupid things. I’ve been in rehab for eight years, if you call nonexistence that.”

 

“Yeah, but what you did back there, it shows that somewhere inside, you’re pretty cool. I’m the kinda dude who’d evade Flowey’s attacks and tell him terrible jokes into submission.”

 

“Oh, yeah, the Pacifistic Frisk. Newspapers keep talking about you. How’s diplomatic life treating you?” Chara sipped on her hot cocoa.

 

“Yeah, I’m not old enough for that yet. That’s why I’m here. You’re here because the dude who used to inhabit your body wanted to study the stars. I can’t wait for you to tell them all that he actually died and you got assigned to his body.”

 

“I’ve been trying to hint at that to them. For some reason, it’s like they’ve accepted the fact that their son’s dead and I’m his non-union Mexican equivalent.”

 

A momentary pause to recollect. And then Chara realized something.

 

“Wait, why in the world did Flowey call me ‘his brother’? I’ve always been the sister.”

 

“I mean, you mentioned that you didn’t come out to them.”

 

“Yeah, but if Flowey is supposed to be Asriel at his worst, he should at least know that I’m his sister.”

 

“Are you trying to tell me that the Flowey that broke into the bathroom today is a different Flowey? Like, from an alternate reality.”  
  
“Try alternate timeline.”

 

Frisk turned around, grabbed a cup and made a green tea. The two of them walked towards the counter, where Asriel was still trying to figure out whether or not he wanted to smoke Camels or Marlboros. The cashier was getting impatient.

 

“Could you hurry it up? I have other customers!” the cashier asked, wanting to get on with his day.

 

“Oh, jeez. Just get me the unfiltered Pall Malls,” Asriel stated nervously, looking around to see if his mom had peeked around the corner and witnessed him buying cigarettes.

 

The cashier took the fiver and handed Asriel a small red pack of cigarettes. The cashier then took a close look at him. “Like father, like son, eh?”

 

Asriel stopped. _Oh fuck I’m becoming like my dad_

 

Frisk walked up to the counter and told the cashier, “Yeah, as his attorney, I’d advise you to not tell him he looks like his dad-“

 

“Howdy there!” Asriel stated, as if trying to embrace the comparison, “I guess you could say we Dreemurrs are alike! Even down to the same cancer sticks!”

 

Frisk tried to hide their face with their tea mug. Chara laughed.

 

“What? It’s true!”

 

* * *

 

Three faces in the crowd. Ambassador, prince and zombie.

 

The new rock band was playing live in front of NBC. People were being let in in regards to capacity. Luckily, the three got to go in. Just close enough to a camera. Probably won’t cut to it that much – if Sans were watching TV, he’d shut it off once he heard the band play the same song he’d heard a thousand times but in slightly different forms.

 

Chara had finished her hot chocolate and looked around for a trash can. Despite them being in one of the cleanest parts of New York, the production assistants and the unlucky pages put on outside duty didn’t put in enough trash cans as per the live director’s request. He didn’t want an entire crowd of overflowing bins – he wanted overflowing people.

 

Luckily, Chara spotted one by one of the newsstands. She tossed her cup over the growing crowd into the bin…and it missed. Goddamn it. At least I’m on TV.

 

Chara held up her sign. Asriel opened up his pack of Pall Malls and lit one up.

 

Frisk thought to themselves, “What does she mean by alternate timeline?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell, it's been awhile since I updated this thing!


End file.
